


a spoiled appetite

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [78]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Baby Boy Dean, Bottom Dean, Daddy Kink, Daddy Sam, F/M, M/M, Mommy Kink, Mommy Rowena, Oral Sex, Slight feminization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: Stretching his legs out under the table and slouching in his chair so that his jeans pulled tight around his dick, Dean rocked back and forth a little as he watched Mommy cut the pie crust and fit it into the pan carefully. She had nice hands, tiny hands compared to him and even tinier compared to Daddy.Thinking about his brother, thinking about Daddy, made Dean’s cock twitch.He couldn’t wait until Daddy got home and saw what he’d helped Mommy make for dinner.





	

Dean sat at the kitchen table making towers out of the still flour-dusty measuring cups while Mommy rolled out dough on the counter. She hummed as she worked, hips swaying to the tune she carried, strings of the flower patterned apron sliding across her butt. She always wore the prettiest dresses, simple, but they fit the curves of her body just right. Bright red hair shiny in the sunlight, Dean forgot the play towers he was making in favor of palming his hard-on through his jeans. 

The glossy pink polish on his nails was perfect. He always made a mess of his cuticles when he did it, but Mommy did it just right. Dean knew he’d already smeared the lipstick she put on him, when she caught him watching her dressing and decided to dress him up too. But she’d just smudged it with a thumb and told him he’d just make it even messier later, so it was fine. 

Stretching his legs out under the table and slouching in his chair so that his jeans pulled tight around his dick, Dean rocked back and forth a little as he watched Mommy cut the pie crust and fit it into the pan carefully. She had nice hands, tiny hands compared to him and even tinier compared to Daddy. 

Thinking about his brother, thinking about Daddy, made Dean’s dick twitch. 

He couldn’t wait until Daddy got home and saw what he’d helped Mommy make for dinner. 

Okay, so Dean’s help mostly consisted of bumping into Mommy, stealing filling, and playing with the measuring cups. But he’d totally helped. 

“Wee boy, come help mommy with the filling.”

“Okay.”

Abandoning the flour-dust wasteland of the table top with it’s scattered towers all toppled, Dean pressed up behind Mommy, rubbing against the small of her back and circling an arm around her narrow waist. Her hair always smelled spicy and made him tingly-warm down to his toes. 

“Are you going to help, or are you going to get in Mommy’s way?”

“I can help.”

Moving next to her, hip to hip - or, hip to waist - Dean hefted the huge stainless steel mixing bowl that was heavy with seasoned apples and tipped it over carefully so that Mommy could spoon it out and pack it down. 

Dinner was already simmering on the stove top. Salisbury steak and potatoes with green beans. Dean could happily take it without the green beans, potatoes were enough of a vegetable. 

Once the filling was neatly mounded in the crust, Dean rinsed the bowl in the sink as Mommy wove strips of crust together and carefully laid them on top, neatly pinching the lattice to the bottom crust. Making pies was like magic. 

After the pie was in the oven and the counters were wiped down, Mommy helped Dean clear off the table and then she settled into a chair with a weary sigh. Making a dinner big enough for him and Daddy must be hard work. Dean sat in front of her on the floor, taking a bare foot into his lap and kneading his fingers into the soft pale skin. Mommy smiled at him, leaning forward and running her fingers through his hair, nails prickling along his scalp. His dick thought that was nice. 

“Such a good boy you are.”

Humming, Dean curled over his lap and kissed the arch of her foot, nosing up to the ankle and dragging his lips higher along her calf, the long skirts of Mommy’s dress tickling his face. Distractedly, he kneaded her foot as he pushed his face under her skirt, kissing at the smooth skin and nipping the tender part at the back of her knee. 

“A good boy knows how to keep himself busy until Daddy gets home, doesn’t he.”

Mommy lifted her skirt, folding it on itself in her hands as she rucked it higher, pulling it to her hips and spreading her thighs. Settling a leg over his shoulder she slid lower in the chair, and Dean pressed his hands behind her thighs to pushed her legs wider, settling between. 

His Mommy was very, very bad and didn’t wear anything underneath her skirts. 

“Thank you for playing dress up with me, Mommy,” Dean told her as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, sucking and nipping gently as she gasped. “Thank you for letting me help make dinner, Mommy,” Dean told her, as he pressed a kiss to the soft curls between her legs. 

“Of course dear, now be good and make Mommy come before Daddy gets home.”

Mommy slid her other leg over his shoulder, thighs warm against his ears, and pulled him in tight, both hands on his head as she rolled her hips up against him. Dean nosed his way down and licked up between the soft slick folds of her, happy to bury himself here, happy for the way Mommy’s hands tightened their hold and she locked her ankles behind his head. Smothered, he kissed her secret parts open mouthed, spit and slick dripping wet down his chin as Mommy ground against him and pulled Dean where she wanted him. 

He liked making Mommy happy, and Mommy liked it best when he went lax and let her guide him to just what she wanted. She always had the best ideas. Always wet for his mouth, for his fingers. The only person Dean knew who was dirtier that Mommy, was Daddy. 

He’d missed the sound of the front door opening, but the soft “Look at you two,” when Daddy pulled out a chair next to Dean almost made him jump out of his skin. 

Of course, Daddy didn’t mind if Dean had special time with just Mommy, but it always felt like getting caught. 

It usually did, with his brother, but that’s because Dean had been getting caught with someone else by his twerp brother long before he was first pulled over Daddy’s knee and spanked to the point of crying. 

Heels digging into Dean’s shoulders and hands pulling tight in his hair, Mommy squeezed her thighs around his head and gushed wetly against Dean’s face as he tried to swallow and breath and eat her out at the same time. Warm and tangy. Better than apple pie. 

Sitting up again, patting Dean’s cheek and settling her skirts properly, Mommy kissed him on the forehead before getting up to serve dinner. 

“Look at you, baby, what have you gotten in to?” Daddy asked. 

Swiping the back of his hand against his face, Dean sat on his butt and wasn’t sure what Daddy was talking about. His shiny work shoes were still on, jacket tossed somewhere else, tie loosened and the sleeves of his button down rolled to the elbows. 

There was a smudge of pink against the back of Dean’s hand that he’d dragged across his face. 

Oh yeah. 

“Mommy did my make-up today.”

“Oh, and the nails too. Come here, let me look.”

Dean scooted closer, resting his head on Daddy’s thigh, rubbing his cheek against the silky soft material and inching higher up when he noticed the hard bulge of Daddy’s dick. Putting both hands up on the other thigh, Dean hummed and rubbed his face closer. A broad, warm hand settled over his, fingertips tracing knuckles. 

“He’s a curious lad, always spying on me getting ready,” Mommy tutted, but Dean knew she wasn’t upset, not really. 

“The lipstick’s a little smeared, but it looks good on you.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

Scooting an inch at a time, Dean shouldered his way between Daddy’s legs, as Sam turned his chair towards the table and made a space between it and the table for Dean. Dinner smelled delicious, but Dean wanted something else in his mouth right now. 

“Can’t even wait until I’ve eaten, baby?”

“Please.” Dean whined, hands on Daddy’s hips and face pressed to the warm, heady place between his legs that had a pulse of it’s own. 

The other chair at the table scraped over linoleum as Rowena sat down, her feet barely touching the floor with red painted tip-toes. 

Daddy ruffled Dean’s short hair, and with one hand pulled open his belt then unbuttoned his slacks, pushing the zipper down and pulling his dick out. Holding it in one hand, like he was going to feed it to Dean how they did sometimes at dinner - usually when Dean was tied to the chair and couldn’t use his hands - and Dean kissed the very tip of it like first-kiss sweet, to let it know that he loved it. 

Folding his legs under him, bumping up against the table, Dean circled his arms closer around Daddy and wrapped his lips tight to the hot smooth skin, sinking down. Groaning, Daddy spread his hand along Dean’s cheek and pulled. Sinking down, down, spit dribbling out the corners of his lips, taste of Mommy still sharp in his mouth, Dean pressed his tongue flat and pushed it out to lick at the underside he couldn’t quite get as Daddy’s legs widened and stretched out beside him. 

Above him, Dean could hear silverware on the plates and glasses picked up and put down again, Mommy and Daddy enjoying dinner, talking quietly. 

Under the table, it was like Dean’s secret play-fort. Like the underground city of the measuring cup-metropolis he had made, the seedy teeming underbelly of it. 

Tugging at the shirt mostly tucked into Daddy’s pants, Dean pulled it out, spread his fingers along the warm skin of Daddy’s firm belly, wrapped one hand around the base of his dick and bobbed on it, pulling up to curl his tongue against the crown and pushing down to try and get at least a bit in his throat. 

There was so much of it. 

Daddy’s hand came back to cradle his face, Daddy leaning away from the table in his chair and peering down at Dean, thumb stroking along the stretch of his lips and fingers trailing down his throat. 

“Mommy says you’ve been a good boy.”

Dean hummed, taking him a little deeper, choking on it and feeling tears welling in the corners of his eyes. 

“Swallow like a good boy, and I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Dean wiggled his fingers deeper into Daddy’s pants to squeeze his balls, because that’s how you said yes right, said please come in my mouth Daddy, without having to take it out. 

He could feel when Daddy was going to come, how it swelled just a little more in his mouth, jaw already aching so wide, dick twitching right before and then it flooded the back of his mouth, Dean swallowing convulsively trying to get every last drop, not let a single one past his lips, because he could be a good boy for his Daddy.

“Jesus, baby, look at you.”

Dean blinked past the wetness in his eyes, soaking up Daddy’s attention and the praise in his focused gaze. 

Pulling off gasping, licking his lips and the tip of Daddy’s dick to make sure he got every last drop, Dean accidentally hit the back of his head on the edge of the table. 

“Careful, hey, easy now,” Daddy told him, scooting back and cupping Dean’s head gently, drawing him forward. 

“Did I get the surprise?” Dean asked. 

He really really wanted to touch his dick, aching so hard it hurt in his jeans, but he also really wanted to know what the surprise was. 

The whole kitchen smelled like spiced apple pie, warm and sweet and safe. Dean’s tummy rumbled as he pushed up off the floor. 

Jesus, his knees could not take kneeling on hard floors for much longer. 

Sam pulled him down, onto his lap, long arms circling Dean and drawing him in for a kiss. Filthy wet and just like he liked, Dean’s toes curled when he kissed his brother and he was too distracted to notice Sam’s hand on the waist of his pants. Sam opened his jeans, slow, fingers teasing as his tongue pressed into Dean’s slack mouth, big hand stroking his dick from root to tip. It only took a little touching before Dean was coming messy all over Sam’s starched white shirt, but there was a dopey smile on his brothers face so it was alright. 

“I got vanilla ice cream for the pie,” Sam told him. 

“Hell yeah.”

“You should eat your dinner first,” Rowena chided, from her chair on the other side of the table as she watched them, glass of red wine in one hand. 

“But pie.”

“He’s been a good boy, hasn’t he, Mommy?” Sam asked. 

“Oh aye, a very good boy. Fine. Spoil your appetite if that’s what you want.”

“I think I already have.” Dean grinned at her cockily, winking as he swung off his brothers lap and buttoned his pants before getting down plates for pie.


End file.
